


Halfsies

by horny_tears



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Everyone involved is into it, Heroes and Villains, I promise Jake's into it, Identity Porn, Light Bondage, Snowballing, Threesomes, Vaginal Sex, ignoring your agency's "don't bang villains no matter how hot" seminars, light come play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horny_tears/pseuds/horny_tears
Summary: "All is fair in Love and War" the old saying goes. It's probably never been more applicable, in a certain party's opinion.(It's Dirk. It's Dirk's opinion.)
Relationships: Jane Crocker/Jake English/Dirk Strider
Kudos: 5
Collections: TFiEsta 2020





	Halfsies

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [TFiEsta](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TFiEsta) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> OT3 Prompt: Character A and Character B are rival supervillains fighting for the attention of Character C, the town hero. Finally the two villains team up to get what they want from C. (No straight up non-con, dub-con ok)

The warning that Hal sends you of the approaching threat was timed so that when you were just about finished with reading it, your own keen senses would start blaring at you about the presence heading towards you and you'd mentally trip on the last two words. Because Hal is a little shit.

"Heart Prince," a soft and feminine voice calls into the dark of the alleyway. A rather familiar one too.

You don't turn to face your visitor yet, eyes staying on the corpse bleeding from the slash you so helpfully added to its throat to help it along. You could've use your powers if you wanted this to be clean, but using it too often ran the risk that the city's coroners would start noticing that your bullshit had "rogue Heart user" written all over it in flowery cursive, and then you'd have to skip town for way longer than comfortable (which was three to four days, tops). Besides, you didn't learn where all the major arteries were and how much force was needed to cut them with a bladed weapon just to be a fountain of cool but damn creepy facts.

That was just a fun bonus.

"Well if it isn't miss Heiress the third, what can I do ya for this fine 2 AM in a dirty alley?" you say into the still air around you. It's a quiet night. "I'm kinda busy, so if you're just trying to sell your weird boss lady's glorious empire I'm gonna have say no, but if it's _somehow_ something else I'll write you an IOU, set aside a date to discuss stuff that isn't joining your fucked up space cult with cheap gin and cucumber sandwiches."

"Eloquent as always, Prince," Heiress says robotically, no words except what's needed to convey her point. How does she even make it in the business without quipping like it's breathing?

You decide that the corpse isn't going to pull a fast one on you and spring back to life like a hungover frat bro that can't afford missing another class, and finally turn to face your fellow Aspect abusing degenerate. Your eyes meet with red irises on black, glowing in tandem with the wires whose own red lights shone through the pallor of unnaturally white skin. You don't even want to know how deep does go, because down that road lies nothing but trouble and ammunition for your asshole brain clone.

The Heiress, third of her name and most definitely the most powerful to bear the title yet, is just unbelievably tiny for something so deadly and efficient, like an assassin mouse with a 269 kill count that's still climbing. Five feet on the dot and appears smaller due to the massive trident she carries around like it's nothing, an annoying little voice that you refuse to acknowledge as your own helpfully supplies, because that would entail admitting that you've spent far too long watching this pseudo-robot chick like some kind of creep to gauge her height and weight. There's collecting data on your fellow villains in case they try something, and then there's trying to puzzle together every little piece about a random person's life because your curiosity is ravenous and you have a pathetically limited idea of what boundaries are.

"So, you have my begrudging attention, what the _fuck_ do you want?" you drawl, not even trying to fake politeness.

You don't really like her. Not for the whole "unscrupulous villainess in cahoots with a genocidal alien" thing, god no. You have a cooling corpse at your feet and it's not even the first one this month. You are many things, but a damn hypocrite ain't one of them.

It's just that she gets on your damn nerves, flying around in her red, black, and white getup with no shits to give unless you're on her objective list. Just stabbing people with her oversized pitchfork without having the decency to dump em somewhere out of sight and never respecting the villain code of "not butting in when someone else is already busy in the area". Not a milligram of class in this chick.

And whenever she shows up, she's always getting up in the grill of the city's hero, a Hope user going by Master Gunner, and **your damn nemesis**. You'd declared it during your debut and many subsequent encounters and everything.

Even with the tools at your disposal you have no idea who Master Gunner is in civvies; because the hero association apparently put like 75% of their effort into allowing people to run around in tiny spandex shorts and boob cupping armour without so much as a domino mask without the normies realising that _oh shit that's Kathy who works at Hot Topic in that shitty excuse of a playboy bunny costume_ , and Hal's many attempts to bypass their system to show you up have only left him whatever the AI equivalent was of nearly lethally tazed.

But none of that shit matters. Gunner was the love of your damn life, the roaring fire to your dumb suicidal moth, the reason you stepped out of the family business of dealing with "undesirables" for a fee from within the comforting anonymity of the dark to join the daytime wackjobs running around in tights and spandex in every saturated color of the rainbow so he'll fight you, see you as more than a hitman with high kill count.

Not that trying to rob and/or take over the city with the help of your slick technology and robots was much better when it came to endearing yourself to your potential paramore, but you knew the hero well enough to know that if he knew you'd cross that line, that you'd already killed, he'd stop entertaining that fanciful little hope that he could get you on the "right side". And you like the bantering between battering him about (he really did not know how to fight properly outside of his pistols, and tended to fail at the hand to hand combat you always turned the fight into), you could tell yourself that he was flirting back.

Which was why Heiress was pretty damn high on your personal shit list. Everyone knew that she had the hots for Master Gunner, the broiling heat of Venus (the planet, not the hero) had nothing on the amount of hots she had for a dopey crime fighter running around in yellow underwear.

She's once literally put herself between the two of you in a fight so she could get in her creepy statements about how one day she was gonna bundle him up and use him to make children. The audacity.

The real annoying part was that Gunner would always blush like some kind of precious virgin stammering about how they definitely hadn't googled bdsm on the family computer. Meanwhile comments of that nature coming from you are always laughed off. You don't want to call it jealousy, but fuck if you can call it something else without getting on your own case for being a dumbass uselessly lying to himself.

Heiress tilts her head, a smile creeping up the corners of her lips. Damn, you're starting to get more uncomfortable with her almost acting like a normal human than the usual robotic demeanor, at least that's familiar and doesn't make you feel like you're somewhere with a tiger right behind you.

"I come with a proposition, Heart Prince," Heiress says.

"Already said I'm not joining the space cult, I like the planet as it is. Yeah the management sucks balls and not even in a hot impossible porno way, but at least there's no culturally expected culling of undesirables being touted as the hottest way to support the government," you quip, and damn you're wasting damn good material on someone who definitely won't appreciate it. No one understood this pain.

She actually rolls her eyes at that, and you're momentarily stunned because what the fuck, she can shrug off bullets but your sick observations apparently deserve a damn eye roll??

"Oh, it's nothing like that. This is more of a personal proposition. We will both benefit from it, if only you agree," her smile was small but sharp, and you very carefully push back the urge to lunge at her exposed throat at the sight of it.

Your hand still tightens around your katana, wary but knowing better. Heiress is, after all, a cheating cheater who fucking cheats, you wouldn't put lying past her But the amount of Life thrumming through her made killing blows mere splinters to the calloused hand of a lifelong craftsman, and even when she was properly offed she always came back, like that one Christmas song that got played in every mall once every ten minutes no matter how many people cried and begged with ears bleeding at the feet of the uncaring gods of holiday music to fucking make it stop already.

You've seen her get hit dead center in the head with some fucking unholy souped machine pretending to be a gun one of the mad scientist types running around had made, and all that little demonstration left behind was a moderately pissed of lady and some blood that had splattered onto the front of her dress, which was blood red anyway so what little mess left wasn't much visually speaking. The media circe du soleil didn't even believe she was actually hit, but you'd been near the fight and fucking saw her brains get blown clean out and how quickly the blueish light of her powers had knitted the massive, gaping hole where her face should've been together. She hadn't even flinched once everything was back in place.

There was a _damn good_ reason that few heroes were willing to go up against Heiress, with only the truly formidable or the insanely stupid ever trying to have a repeat encounter. And Master Gunner was very much in the latter category, considering that everyone knew that the only reason he hadn't been reduced to a smear on the floor was because of her intense infatuation.

"Please do elaborate on what kind of personal business you think you can help me with, because I don't remember asking for advice. Especially from you," you drawl, a smidge of curiosity leaking into your tone despite yourself. What does she think you'll like so much that you'll willingly side with her?

"You look at him the way I do."

And just like that, you're angry. Not because she's wrong. But because she's right on money, dead center on the target superglued to your soul that is your fucking problem and hitting it like she's robin hood playing blind man before pulling off his impossible trick shots in a rigged competition. And if there's one thing you don't want to do, it's talk about your _mutual crush_.

She holds the hand not clutching her trident up and it glows, stopping your tirade before it can even begin. She doesn't do anything, but the implied threat does halt you long enough for her to continue speaking.

"You look at him the way I do, but I know something secret. A little bluebird told me. I promise you'll be quite happy," Heiress says, voice soft as it tries to soothe your frazzled nerves. It works, much to your chagrin.

You lower your katana, just a bit. "Fine, what are you selling."

"A fun time with our dear beloved, Master Gunner," she practically purs; eyes bright, smile wide, and voice giddy, and that was the most emotion you've seen coming from her in all the months you've stalked her presence once she made it clear that she too had a thing for the city's hero of Hope.

You narrow your eyes behind your shades, but you store your blade away and lean against the wall the corpse is slumped against. It can wait a few minutes. "Fine, talk."

She did.

And fucking hell is she wasn't right. Again.

~ ~

Most days, you were deeply frustrated with your other half.

Jane didn't understand, always ignoring things as if it would help her somehow; the wires betwixt her flesh and under her skin, the tainted blood that would haunt her family no matter what they did, her feelings towards that stupid boy, the "unexplainable" blackouts and how she woke up in strange places.

But that was fine, you didn't have very high expectations for her. Weak in will and hesitant to do what was necessary if it brushed up against her personal limits, so _pathetically human_. But you were superior in both brains and brawns, a pinnacle made reality, and waiting for her to wake up and come to you (join with you) was a task easily done.

Besides, she had given you a gift last time you woke up and lingered underneath her own consciousness. 

Jane was in the know about Master Gunner's civilian identity, and he would often speak to her about the trials and tribulations of his heroics since she was from a family of heroes despite not being in the business herself. Which was how you had come to know something so wonderful in the first place.

He was attracted to you and Heart Prince. Admittedly he was shameful about it, knowing better than most would give him credit for. It was quite frowned upon for official heroes to fraternize with the enemy after all, no matter how attractive. But if push came to shove, he'd whispered to Jane one late afternoon, he'd definitely not fight as hard as he probably should to get out of a tough spot like that.

Your lesser half should be thanking you, really. You wouldn't let her see too much, if you pushed too hard she'd definitely sacrifice herself to lock you up, but she deserved a reward nonetheless. Her dreams would be sweet indeed.

~ ~

You move slowly through warehouse HQ's sent you to, not wanting to give away your location so soon. You're unsure what you'll find, but a reliable tip is always worth investigating. Something about villainous types being spotted meeting covertly.

You've been wandering around the massive abandoned building for a good twenty minutes, and while you can say that whoever's holed up here isn't using it to store illegal or dangerous weapons, you haven't seen much in the way of conspiring villains.

Up until a few seconds ago.

There's a distant argument in the air, whichever of the dastardly crooks caught plotting most likely not getting along. Quite frankly unless they were a smaller, more consistent group, few attempted Leagues of Evildoers lasted long. There tends to be too much butting of heads for one room to handle, much less a complicated operation.

You squint into the sparse light, carefully floating near the warehouse's rafters. Nothing seems amiss with either of the the two easily identified villains, but something doesn't look right. At a closer look, neither seem to be properly armed; Heart Prince didn't seem to have his katana with him, and Heiress didn't have her trident. It's then that you realize what exactly was else was amiss. The bandage like wrappings around Heiress' legs were still present, but her black pants were missing.

For a short, highly embarrassing moment, you're convinced that she wasn't wearing anything underneath her dress at all. Oh my.

This sudden stunning realization of yours is bad enough that you forget to concentrate on staying in the air and pratfall right in front of the pair, a mistake that was quickly taken advantage of. In the time it takes you to realize you're on the ground, they've already managed to grab you with barely a hint of resistance as your shameless horndog brain (the opportunity that was presented to you! An accidental peek was never so tantalizingly close) did battle with your sensible brain (don't be daft you twit! Her flying around potentially flashing everyone in the city isn't something to focus on when your _two strongest enemies are in ca-fucking-hoots!_ )

"Well shit, that was ridiculously easy," Heart Prince says as he hauls you closer by hands bound by powerful handcuffs. He then holds onto your hips, your cuffed hands pressed between your back and his toned stomach. Oh this was probably the start of a very sticky situation, and you're not just talking about the dick you can feel through the fabric of his pants.

Heiress lets out that small little giggle she only makes around you, a twitch of a smile on her otherwise passive face.

"A well placed distraction can do many things, dearest," she responds.

Your brain stalls on "dearest" coming from Heiress and being directed at Heart Prince of all people.

An attempt to lean away from Heart Prince makes his grip tighten to borderline uncomfortable levels. You settle down with an annoyed grimace, and he obliges your "good behavior" by no longer holding tight enough to bruise.

"What are you two up to," you say clearly. Being tied up has never been a good excuse not to do your job. Besides, most villains can't seem to help but monologue about what exactly they're going to be attempting this time around, because massive egos are like attention hungry cats; they demand to be stroked.

"Oh, don't worry, Gunner. Nothing that'll endanger the city or it's people today. It's more of a personal call really," Heart Prince says to you. You decide to chance not watching Heiress (and her luscious, luscious thighs) for a bit and tilt your head to watch Heart Prince instead.

"So it's a scrap you're hankering for, well why don't you let me go and we can have a jolly good tussle? Scared I'll kick your ass hard enough to arrest you this time, Heart Prince?" you taunt, but for some reason Heart Prince doesn't rise to the bait. He doesn't even acknowledge it or ask if that was supposed to be your best come on, which is confusing in of itself. His hands are still on your hips, but they've started to gently stroke.

The unforgiving grip he has on you flips from "restraining" to "sensual" in the blink of an eye for you, and you blush, squirming just a little bit. God, you'd thought you'd gotten rid off all those stupid thoughts months ago. This is really not the kind of place where you want to pop a boner.

"We have an offer, beloved. Just say no, and we'll simply go on our merry way. But if you accept, it's nothing more than a simple bit of fun that doesn't have to mean anything once done," Heiress says with a sweet coo in her voice, gently pleading with you to go along.

Your jaw drops. They can't be serious. They can't fucking mean what they're implying. You refuse to even voice it in your own head, because no. This is not happening to you.

(To acknowledge it would be to get tempted. You could deal with Heart Prince's weird humor, Heiress' straightforward malice. Both of them push, and you simply push back, and none of you get any further than that. But this would be to ask you to step into the deep end willingly.)

(And by God's grace if you aren't willing.)

You swallow, tongue heavy in your mouth. You should tell them no. No, you should scream at them instead. Scream and rage and call them every foul word under the sun and then some, for even suggesting that you'd go along with this, with this depravity!

But no matter what, you don't actually tell them no. You fucking don't.

And immediately both of them smile, predatory and gleeful.

You actually get a good look at Heiress as she shuffles out of her pants, or more accurately, her tiny booty shorts. They definitely give your costume's own tiny shorts a run for its money, no wonder it looks like she's not wearing anything under that dress. Their absence reveals very lacy panties, pale and gold (just like your Hope themed uniform, good Lord) and standing out against unnaturally pale legs dotted with red glowing wires.

Prince is in a good mood, because his body language is open enough that you can read his eye roll even out of the corner of your eye. "You fucking cheating minx. I risk chafing my nuts off against these pants fibers and you couldn't even be with me in solidarity. Ice cold, Heiress, really fucking ice cold."

Heiress scoffs softly. "Oh hush, I didn't tell you to go commando, just to make sure you could get your dick out quickly. I happen to have saved these panties for a special occasion, and I wasn't about to flash any sod unfortunate enough to look up. The show is not for them."

"Spoilsport," he mutters, but keeps his hands right where they were; tracing up and down your sides. You really, really want those hands on your skin, and the minute that thought enters your head you viciously suppress it. You've been forced to sit through too damn many seminars on "why we don't sex up villains" to falter at the first hurdle encountered.

You let out an embarrassing squeak when Prince sits down on the cold concrete and pulls you down with him, pushing you onto your back. The cold is uncomfortable where your costume doesn't provide cover, and his tall stature looms over you. You've never felt more pinned in your entire heroic career.

When you twist your head look at her, Heiress is on the floor too, her eyes never straying from you and Heart Prince. The villainess carefully tucks a stray curl back into place, pulls the front of her dress to the side, and then spreads her legs wide, nothing blocking your view of her smooth thighs and your own colors. She runs a finger up and down where her slit has already soaked the fabric, toes curling in anticipation. With her other hand, she reaches into her cleavage, from the depths of which she pulls out a little bottle of lube.

"I'll be over here getting ready, don't wait to start on my account, dearest, beloved," she coos at the both of you.

"Don't mind if I do, little lady," Heart Prince says, and the playful tone; especially towards the third Heiress, almost makes you think you've got the wrong person feeling you up even if that's less likely than getting struck by lightning twice. "I'll give you a real sexy showing all right, professional porno with a big screen disaster movie budget ain't got nothing on the kind of debauchery I'm about to unleash on your unsuspecting souls."

Heart Prince puts his hands on your chest as he talks, the cuffs keeping your hands tucked uselessly underneath you, pawing at your belt and shirt. He quickly slips both hands underneath the shirt's fabric, fingers calloused and rough from his chosen practices of swordplay and robotics, and goodness do they feel fucking good gliding across your already heated skin.

"Don't you even think of going further," you hiss as your blush darkens, going for menacing but probably failing spectacularly if the raised eyebrow he gives you is anything to go by.

He ignores you completely but leaves your torso relatively unexplored before going lower, and then pulls both your tiny pants and boxers off in one motion, immediately going for your cock. You have to bite your lips to keep back a debasing moan. You're not about to encourage either of them! Even if a part of you is saying that you could definitely put up more of a struggle than you currently are. This is exactly the kind of situation you would normally use your overpowered Hope abilities for.

But you won't.

. . . Because you don't want to have another wrecked building on your file at HQ! you've been doing so much better about that the last year. This definitely didn't call for destruction of property.

Prince's hands feel heavenly, and that's an observation you can make without bias! Just a simple fact to catalogue.

From his pants" pocket he pulls out a bigger bottle of lube of his own, which he carelessly drizzles on you. It does as intended, making the whole affair slick and slippery as his hands run over you, one minute massaging your thighs and the other trailing a finger or two up and down your hardened cock like the damn cocktease he knows he is.

You don't notice the first finger carefully slipping into you, too distracted by how the other hand touches and strokes, but you do notice the second one as it gently presses in beside it. You bite back a small whine at the sensation, especially when Heart Prince takes that moment to properly take hold of your cock again.

Carefully, ever so carefully, you push back onto his fingers. You don't know why you're bothering with being subtle, in the position you're in he can tell whatever it is you doing.

He notices, obviously, because his smirk widens considerably.

"Oho? Do you want me to hurry up, hero?" he said with a tease to his voice. "Want my fingers all up inside you, teasing you till you beg? Would you feel better if I made you do that so you won't have to feel bad about it, big guy?"

You stay silent, even try to muster a glare, but your hips don't stop moving, they speed up instead. And that's answer enough, isn't it?

You can't see Heiress masturbate from your spot flat on your back with Heart Prince looming over you, but you sure as hell can hear her; the tiny moans and little squeaks, the soft comments as she asks Prince things like "are his nipples sensitive? His sides?" and her breathy laugh when he answers after a thorough investigation before returning to your cock. Your head spins, your pulse thunders through your veins, these two are driving you utterly batty and you can't even hate them properly for it.

He's got four fingers rapidly moving in and out of you when you feel like a cresting wave is about to hit you, sparks zipping up and down your spine, and you defiantly bite your lips. You will not give them the satisfaction of having you beg for release like a cheap whore trying to get tipped extra.

Then the fucking bastard twists his hand on your dick just so while pressing hard on your prostate with the other, and you come with a moan that practically rips itself out of your unwilling throat. Your come coats his hand and quite a bit of your shirt, and you slump down as you try to catch your breath.

Said bastard actually smirks at you, not even trying for that weird poker face he insists is "a family heirloom", but no amount of smugness can hide how his face flushes or his hand shakes as he brings it up to his mouth. A red tongue licking white stained fingers clean is has never looked so erotic, which was saying something when the base scene was such a lascivious one already.

My turn, dearest?" you startle just a little bit, having completely forgotten that there was an audience of one watching you. Heiress hasn't moved from her spot, but twisting your head to watch her reveals that the lube has been opened and the panties have been left halfway down her right leg.

"Fine, fine, just don't hog him," Heart Prince replies. He kneels down on the smooth concrete and gently pulls you up, turning you around to rest against him back to chest with your front fully exposed to his cohort, all the while keeping three fingers firmly in your ass and rubbing insistently the whole time.

As she moves closer, Heiress' eyes widen noticeably as she hungrily runs her gaze across every inch of you she can, the blown out black pupils almost drowning out her red irises and only leaving a sliver of color in the dark of her unnatural eyes.

She straightens out your shirt and bows her head so she can lap at whatever Heart Prince hasn't scooped off you already. She doesn't do that well of a job being neat, as she quickly abandons licking up your cooling spend to kiss and nip at your belly instead.

"Beloved, dearest, would you like to see a fun little trick I know?" she suddenly asks, and the blonde behind you stops ruthlessly stroking your prostate so he can pay attention properly.

"Oho? Do share with the class," he says with a smirk so wide you can hear it, and before you, on her knees and without anything covering her lower body, Heiress returns the gesture.

She kisses the top of your glans, and at first you're not sure what she's trying to do. It hasn't even been a full minute since Heart Prince's unfairly talented hands had worked you over like a baker his prized dough, and you can only feel a little guilty that she's not going to have as much fun with your drooping johnson as she probably could be.

(All those seminars, wasted.)

That train of thought last up right until a glow starts to gather around her, blue and soft, painting the stale air of the warehouse in the crisp scent of new buds and hints of iron that herald the use of powerful Life magic, invigorating and intoxicating in equal measures.

She sticks her tongue out to give your cock a slow, luxurious lick all the way from the balls to the slit. At the first touch of the wet muscle you jolt fiercely; almost headbutting Prince in the nose if not for his sharp reflexes, as the Life powers thrumming through her whole being flows into your body. More specifically, into your nether regions, which responds to the attention quickly and shamelessly.

"Not fucking fair, lady," Prince grouses, but he still leans in to watch as well as he can from his spot behind you as she coaxes your cock back to life with careful ministrations. You're watching her too, but you tell yourself it's because it's unwise to take your eyes off the enemy still in line sight. Nothing to be done about how she's right up in your unmentionables right now.

"Hush, you said I could get a turn," Heiress snipes back without the decency to take her mouth fully off your newly invigorated cock, keeping up her work as the blue light dies down and fades.

Prince doesn't respond, but does twist his fingers (still inside you, if momentarily forgotten) just so, making you yelp and your dick jolt from the sudden extra stimulus. Heiress only laughs as a bit of precome hits her cheek, leaning back a bit to put the tip fully into her warm and soft mouth.

She easily slides down to take half of the considerable length and girth into her tiny mouth, and behind you you hear a single lilting whistle of acknowledgment.

"Well damn, didn't think you'd make it past the tip without choking little lady. Between this and your little pick-me-up trick, it's like you're trying to show off," Prince drawls, and the hand not inside you leaves your waist (very quietly and despite yourself, you whimper) and drops on Heiress' head.

"But how 'bout we give him a really good time?" he says right next to your ear, voice rough and doing things to you even if he's not talking to you directly. Then, with an insistent little move, he pushes her head till she gets the idea and goes down further.

And further.

And further.

Till your massive cock is completely enveloped by a snug, wet heat. You can't help yourself when Prince deigns to hit your prostate again, you jerk your hips violently and probably would've choked Heiress if her hands weren't firmly on your thighs and Heart Prince hadn't resumed his bruising hold on your hip. She still lets you push into her throat quite a lot though, a sound of delight and arousal filling the air coming from both of them (and yourself, though you're ignoring that), and between that and the fingers still wriggling inside you; making anticipating the next spark of white hot pleasure a fool's errand, you feel just about ready to burst all over again.

Heiress lifts her head slowly, keeping up a steady suck even if it made her drool quite a bit, and just as it looks like she's about to let go she slams all the way down again. She keeps the brutal pace up effortlessly, even loosening her grip enough that you could facefuck her properly under your own power. You're ashamed to admit to moaning out loud at that, especially since Heart Prince takes her actions as a "all bets are off" sign and proceeds to target your prostate with single-minded determination.

Heart Prince mumbles something next to you, either "fuck that's kinda hot" or just a string of half coherent curses, but you honestly don't hear it past the rushing blood in your veins and the overstimulation that dominates your senses and dulls them to anything that isn't wild pleasure.

You come again with a choked off sob, shaking and twitching at the overload of sensation so soon after the last one, and slump inelegantly into Heart Prince's grip, who's finally removed his fingers from your ass completely. You can't decide if you want to thank him or yell at him to put them back inside, but you wisely keep your mouth shut.

Heiress keeps her sinful mouth on your tip till your climax finally peters out, sucking the oversensitive flesh gently and softly squeezing the rest of your cock to coax you to spill some more, but doesn't move to spit or swallow. Instead; with cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk, she shuffles closer to you and pulls the one behind you to meet her halfway. Slightly confused, you watch them out of the corner of your eye, where you can see her lock lips with Heart Prince. You just about choke on your tongue when you process what exactly is going on, the sounds coming from them shameless and filthy as the villainous pair partake in your spilled seed together, loud enough that you're half convinced you'll never stop hearing it in the back of your head no matter what.

They pull apart, a string of saliva connecting them for a second before it breaks. "Better, dearest?" Heiress croons sweetly as she pants in time with Heart Prince.

The blonde doesn't answer, but does lean forward and lick a stray string of come still clinging to her lips with a low moan. Crippesake you're probably redder than a virgin cherry as a bdsm strip joint.

"Fine, I guess I'll forgive you since you shared," he says with an air of exaggerated annoyance. He keeps a possessive hand on your waist, the other dropping down to rest on your dick alongside Heiress' dainty one.

"Not yet, beloved," she says then, and a familiar blue glow starts to emanate from her once more; concentrated on her hand this time. You almost want to keen and beg, only your desperate need to not go against your vows as a hero any worse than you already have keeping the babble behind lock and key.

Your flagging hard-on comes back to life for the second time in a short while, already straining for release.

Heiress pulls you down on top of her, splayed on her back and panties on one of her ankles. With your hands still behind you, the position is incredibly awkward.

Without a word, Heart Prince undoes one of the cuffs, puts your hands in front of you, and recuffs them, all in the space of a blink. The whole stunt was confusing, but with your arms in a less straining position, you can keep your full weight (and Prince's, seeing as you know damn well what's coming next) off her properly now. You know she won't get squished; you've seen her get tossed clean through buildings without getting so much as a scratch on her, but it'd still be rude.

"Let's not keep the little lady waiting, hero," Prince says, positioning your bound hands above Heiress' dark hair. You can feel his erection as he slowly ruts between your ass heels, seemingly content to wait for you to start.

You swallow. Between the warmth that sears your back while a hot mouth carefully nipped just below where your costume's collar would keep covered and the small hands gripping your wrists while a usually immobile face looks at you like you made the stars, you really just want to let go. You've been brought to earth shattering orgasm two separate times by your inadvisable crushes in the last ten minutes, and a part of you is desperate for a third. Things come in threes, it's a good number for things.

Slowly, Heiress hikes up a leg, and one of Heart Prince's hands stops touching you to give her some support with the position. Ideally this would be happening in a cushy bed, but it's just you, your sworn nemesis, your most dangerous foe, and the concrete floor only warmed by your collective body heat.

You let yourself be pulled/pushed lower, until the tip of your erection comes in contact with heated flesh. Christ she's soaked.

Behind you, Prince adjusts himself to the new position, and you feel a blunt tip press against your own twitching hole.

It suddenly occurs to you that you're about to become the heroic filling of a very nsfw sandwich, and you don't mind nearly as much as you probably should.

You sink in slowly, trying to be careful with the tiny form below you. Behind you, Prince is a bit less gentle, a bit faster to enter you and grind down, but you actually like the slight burn that persists even after he's prepped you.

Prince lies sprawled on your back as you push your massive cock into Heiress, watching intently, and knowing that you're being watched sends a shameful curl of ecstasy up and down your spine.

You finally bottom out, and even as her fingernails almost dig into your skin you can't help but feel smug at the blissed out look on her usually blank face and how her toes obviously curl in her flats. You did that, you think to yourself.

Heart Prince takes that time to pull out and slam back into you, and you jolt at the unexpected movement. A heavy moan you don't even try to stop spills past your lips, which only becomes louder as Heiress squeezes around you at the same time.

Prince is quick to set up a steady pace, in and out with the same single mindedness his hands had when inside you, and you try to match his thrusts. It's tricky, because you have two very distracting sensations surrounding you and it's a bit hard to remember to act instead of solely reacting to the maddening stimulus.

"See, I knew you'd agree once we had a chance to show you what things could be like, beloved. You don't need to think, don't need to impress or reach expectations, you're perfect and I love you. We love you," Heart Prince pants into the back of your neck, and you almost freeze at the admission.

You know where you stand with Heiress, everything out of her mouth is facts as she sees them. But your blonde nemesis was such a mercurial asshole at the best of times, it was hard to try and decipher what was true and what was played straight nonsense meant to ridicule you as you played your game of cat and mouse through the city. But here, stripped bare and out of sight from prying eyes, you know what he says is true.

"We just want to show you how good you could feel, you deserve it, our big strong hero keeping the city safe even if the riffraff think you're nothing but a joke.We know better, we've fought you and _know_ how much you hold back, won't you let us show you how important you are to us?" Heiress' voice has taken on an almost hypnotic tone, but the only thing you're drunk on is unimaginable pleasure and a taboo love made all the sweeter for it's forbidden nature.

(The unambiguous praise is also doing something for you, but that's going straight in the "not know" box.)

Prince picks up the pace, and when you just about scream when he brushes your prostate, he switches gears to target it mercilessly. You whine, and he licks a hot stripe up your neck and gently scrapes his teeth on the wet skin. You want to beg him to bite you, mark you clearly, but you know that would bring too many questions so you bite your tongue instead.

Heiress is content to let the two of you set the pace, on hand staying put on your wrist as the other languidly trails from your neck to hips to where your hardened nipples stand stiff. Gentle but insistent, impossible to ignore as she zeroes in on all the erogenous zones you have, probably because she's saturated your body with her Life energy and has a mental map of your inner workings as long as it's still inside you. 

It's a diametric opposite of Heart Prince's brutal and bruising pace, wild and tinged with joy and desperation as he wildly gropes wherever he can reach, and in your ears he rasps a litany of curses and moans and the kind of dirty talk that makes you feel like your going to burst from how bad you're blushing.

The clashing styles leave you even more breathless than normal, only able to hold on for dear life as two powerful currents toss you about between them. It's easy to lose yourself to the whole thing, and you don't even try to fight it anymore. Just let it come to you, like massive waves breaking on a shore.

You can't hear yourself or what exactly you're promising these two, but both of their breaths hitch, Heiress' clenching down on you like a vice while Prince's dick twitches almost violently inside you. You do know that you're shamelessly begging; loud and insistent and utterly unconcerned with how you look. If someone stormed onto the scene you probably wouldn't give a hoot nanny, even if it was the head of Hero HQ.

You come with a wordless shout, and almost immediately both follow you over the edge, their releases egging on yours and vice versa. White hot bliss passes between all three of you in a wicked chain reaction, like lightning striking metal, leaving you breathless.

The sound of skin slapping against skin stops, and is replaced with heavy breathing that slows as the minutes crawl and the temperature lowers.

With a shiver, Heiress carefully shimmies out from beneath your mostly boneless form, kissing you softly on the mouth as you whine at the loss of her warm insides enfolding you. Once she's seated a bit away, she reaches into the depths of her cleavage where she'd retrieved her own bottle of lube from, this time revealing a small plug that she immediately works into her slick cunt. You'd be a little weirded out if your brain hadn't been rendered nonfunctional, but all you can think is that it's oddly sweet, which really does show how utterly fucked up on the orgasmic bliss you are right now. Oh this whole encounter was going to have you incapable of looking either in the eyes. Or worse, trying to swing for a repeat encounter like a desperate one night stand looking for more.

Heart Prince undoes the cuffs keeping your hands together, putting a kiss on your left wrist before he's pulling out and moving away. He stays near only long enough to pull you into a truly filthy kiss on the mouth, but you find yourself missing his solid warmth draped across your back despite yourself. You kinda don't want either of them to leave, even if you know it's for the best.

Heiress retrieves her tiny shorts and slips them on, not even bothering with the panties. From your spot sprawled on the floor, you can't help but watch her, nor can you help watch as Heart Prince shakily tucks himself in while still being severely jelly legged from his own happy ending.

With a nod to Heiress, he immediately vamooses without so much as a "good further day", which probably shouldn't annoy you as much as it is. Heiress only shakes her head in that same way Jane does when you do something ridiculous for the tenth time that day before turning to watch you head-on, and gives you an honest to Betsy smile.

"My friend's little helper made sure that there was a half hour blank in your tech, as far as the agency is concerned you only had your communication compromised while investigating the tip. Feel free to come up with whatever happened during, but do try to clean yourself up before they send someone over."

Heiress crouches down, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth, and follows her fellow mastermind out of the warehouse without a glance back.

It's quiet, the only sound your steadying breathing.

Once it evens out, you raise a hand to the commutator carefully hidden in your shirt's collar, and it immediately surges to life once more.

"This is Master Gunner to HQ, are you there?" you report.

Loud and clear, MG, we're so happy to hear from you! Your communication was down for a hot minute back there, what the hell happened?" the voice on the other end asks.

You swallow thickly, were you really going to lie about what happened? Those two were criminals, a rape charge being on their record wasn't much compared to the other bouts of villainy that could be traced back to them individually. You wouldn't even be the first hero that got caught in this kind of situation, there were resources for this kinda on the job assault.

"It was a trap," you say, and it was only half a lie really, "Heiress and Heart Prince were on location and managed to catch me off guard. But they spent too long bickering about what exactly to do and gave me an opening to wiggle out. We fought, and they apparently decided that the encounter wasn't worth it in an enclosed space and both left."

"Ugh," the voice grumbles, and you pray that they can't hear the fakeness of the statement that just left your mouth. "I can't decide if I'm happy, or annoyed. Can you make it back on your own or should we send someone over, MG?"

You shift a bit, feeling the cooling come on your dick, in your ass, soaking into your rucked up shirt, think about the bright Hope themed panties still on the floor, and shiver hard as you remember how exactly all of those got there.

"No thank you, I'll manage. I'm actually going to head home immediately, I think I'm going to take a day off after that nonsense."

~ ~

The next day, you're seated at the usual table you and Jane share as you wait for your friend to arrive. Yesterday had been, exhausting; both what happened in the warehouse and going through the made up ordeal with HQ, and you're more than ready to relax for a day or two before resuming your usual duties. You grin as a tiny figure dressed in blues and whites approaches, jumping up to stand on your seat and shout.

"Jane!! Over here!!! How have you been, are classes doing alright!?!"

You wave wildly to your friend as she gets closer, and the scene you're making is so familiar that not a single person so much as turns to look at you.

"Hello Jake, I've been doing just wonderful. We're going to have a visitor, do you mind?"

You frown just a bit at that.

"I thought you were done with your group projects for the year though, did you get dragged into one last minute again? Jane, you know you shouldn't feel obligated to help feckless rubes with their problems."

She waves a hand at you, as if trying to bat your words out of the air. "It's not someone from school, meeting with this guy is strictly an outside education situation," she explains.

"Oho?" you respond, intrigued. "Another man in your life, do I need to tell your father that his little lady is growing up?" you tease.

Jane blushes, the sweet pink of her cheeks staining her tan features fiercely.

"Don't you dare, English, we still have leftover cake from when we celebrated me taking a mental health day after exams. And it's nothing like that, Jake! I just made a friend is all. His name's Dirk Strider, he's studying robotics over at that one school across the city devoted to engineering and such, and we met at the store when he bumped into me and nearly splattered my milk."

"Nearly?" you ask.

"He's got quick reflexes and caught all six of them, it's why I'm calling him a friend and not cursing his name to hell and back again," she says as she started to unpack her lunch from her messenger bag. It's a lot, but today there's noticeably more than usual.

"He's coming over in a tick, so don't be rude, please! I'd prefer it if you two got along so I don't need to split my hangout time because neither of you want to be friends."

Your hand flies to grip your shirt over your heart in mock hurt. "Perish the thought, Jane! How could you think so lowly of me, your oldest friend? I'll be on my best behavior, scout's honor."

Jane lightly kicks you under the table with a disbelieving snort. "You have none, silly. You always tried to jump from the roof "because I'm the greatest adventurer" or start a fire without supervision and got kicked out before it was even a month. Jade was furious with you, remember?"

As she lays out the last of her bountiful spread, a tall and handsome blonde you haven't seen before shows up in your periphery, scanning the area as if looking for someone. You can't really tell, his obnoxious pointy shades hiding his eyes.

He stops suddenly, staring in your general direction, and starts to make his way to the table you and Jane are seated at.

"This the spot, Crocker?" he asks, and the aforementioned teen jumps before turning around and away from her food.

"Dirk! I thought I was going to have to give you a call, but you're just on time! Sit, sit, I brought you some lunch to share."

"Welp, can't say no to a free meal. Well technically I could, but why the fuck would I, this shit looks delicious and I'm not on a diet," he says as he drops down on the empty seat next to Jane, leaving you by your lonesome on the other side of the table.

Jane shakes her head in that familiar, "your antics are amusing but I refuse to encourage your shenanigans" way, and turns to face the newcomer properly because she has manners.

"Dirk, this is Jake English, we've been friends since we were in diapers basically," she starts. Then she faces you, a hand waving at the blonde next to her. "Jake, this is Dirk Strider, he both jeopardized and saved my family's pastries for the next week. Can we keep him?" 

Solely to be annoying, you rub your chin the way Mr Crocker does when Jane pouts at him when trying to get something, staring down the tall blonde seated next to your tiny best friend with as much Fatherly Scrutiny you can muster up (which is admittedly not much). "Hmmmm, I don't know young lady, is he housebroken?

"Yeah, but fair warning, I might hump your leg," Dirk immediately deadpans.

You laugh aloud at that unexpected quip, a funnyman! You grab his lax hand right off the table for a firm shake that you know rattles to the bone, and to your continued delight he doesn't even react. Jane watched the two of you with a hand hiding her smile, giggling despite herself.

"I think we're all going to get along just fine," she says happily.

You think so too.

**Author's Note:**

> Damn I really did say "I'm going to attempt to write smut" and immediately jumped into the deep end by going straight for a threesome.
> 
> There'll probably be more in this weird verse in the future, but for now I'm happy.


End file.
